“We need to talk,” she whispered, inches from my ear. Scared the shit out of me.
“This is probably not a good time, Estelle.”
“No time is the right time with you. We need to talk. About you. About us.”
I sighed, exasperated.
It was not a good time.
I stood, moving away from his neck, his life draining from him slowly, slowly.
What a waste.
His blood tasted sweet against my lips, as I turned to her, saw the shock written across her face in bold strokes.
He wrinkled, dried out and drained. visibly aging in seconds – I gave my time to him, what little of it was left.
And took his, without sharing, without inviting her.
I closed the door behind her to just a crack, and watched her aging face sink, the crow’s feet and wrinkles collapsing inward on themselves as she hissed, knowing I was too powerful now for her to control.
She didn’t have long left, and I smiled.
It had taken an age, but in the end one moment alone was all I had needed.
“You little bitch!” Venom dripped from her tongue as she stared through me, but I was finished being intimidated.
Just because she created me doesn’t mean she owns me.
And now, finally, I would be rid of her.
I smiled again, as I slipped through the crack in the door.
Written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge:
and for BeKindRewrite: